Rolling Into Flat Stones

I don't hear the sound anymore,
of the drums getting louder;
I only feel the reverb, growing on me.

I know a shockwave is coming, but I know I won't feel it at all.
I could catch a cold at a hundred miles per hour, but it won't affect me.

In this submission I make, I can grow up as I say all the time;
I don't know why I have this seasonal need -
to be lost fake and faded,
sugar coated lies,
these words we've hated

somewhere in the grass, we know we come along,
in days, we set hourly wages,
we have waited for the marching me, and they have never came,
we have waited for the train,
but it only wanted to stay.

I guess, it's so cliche to expect the best, but sometimes we stand still,
rolling into flat stones, we wait alone
some birds sing while others cry,
we love these lessons, we've earned a life
I want you, I feel you breaking into my heart,
hoping to steal it's contents;

it's elsewhere,
in a safe-house; located so far away I barely ever see it myself.
But if we believe, and look into mirrors to try to interpret our reflections,
we become more

we become heroes